“I would love to interview you.” Colin Jagger offered, his eyes raking over the slim blond. Both men were more than aware of the meaning behind the hunger in the older man’s eyes. Colin found his position of power as intoxicating as the many drinks he’d managed to consume since arriving at the opening. It was one of the many perks of being the lead art critic on the east coast. Justin had been around the scene long enough to realize what sort of interview the man was suggesting and fought the look of disgust that was threatening his countenance. “I’ll check my schedule.” He politely offered not wanting to piss off such an influential man. Ken had warned him of the power of certain critics, Jagger being one of them. “Please do. I’m sure you can find some time to work me in.” The emphasis on the last word was emphasized by the hand Jagger had suddenly attached to Justin’s hip. “I’d love for us to explore your art and the artist behind it.” Justin resented the assumption and moved out of Jagger’s touch. Jagger smiled, he’d always enjoyed the resistant artists far more than the compliant ones. He considered it the thrill of the hunt which he found far more satisfying than the kill. “Justin!” Ken called enthusiastically breaking the tension between the two men. “Colin!” He leaned in kissing the critic on the cheek. “It’s been forever. I see you’ve met my newest client.” “Yes.” Colin stepped back slightly, veiling his rapacious intent. “He’s very talented.” “Well, he’s sold out.” Ken announced turning to Justin giving him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “What did I tell you?” The agent beamed. “Are you serious?” Justin furrowed his brow. He’d brought four works to the show two days earlier. After viewing the other submissions he’d felt a little out of his depth. He’d hoped that his work would stand out a bit but had never expected to sell one, let alone all four pieces. “Very serious!” Ken enthused. “There are collectors wanting on the list.” Ken smiled throwing his arm around the smaller man. “They’re lining up to work with you.” “The list?” Justin asked in confusion. He wasn’t sure exactly what Ken was talking about, in fact Justin was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything given the manner in which Jagger was staring at him. “Commissions.” Justin nodded realizing that Jagger seemed to have gotten the message and was fading back into the crowd. Justin watched the critic approach one of the other artists in the show and gave a sigh of relief. “Did he hit on you?” Ken asked following the blond’s gaze. “Propositioned me.” Justin corrected. “Seems he has some trouble separating his professional from his private life.” “Yep, well that’s how Jagger does it.” Ken glanced over his shoulder smiling at the sleaziest but possibly most influential critic at the moment. Ken sighed treading carefully as he made his next comment. “Sometimes it’s worth it for an artist to sacrifice a bit of his integrity for needed exposure.” His eyes held Justin conveying clearly who it was that he was alluding to. “Fuck that.” Justin huffed. “I don’t have to blow some guy to get a review and if I do, then fuck it, I don’t want his review.” “Justin—“ “Fuck him and fuck you for suggesting it.” Justin placed his glass on the nearest tray and moved to the door. “Justin.” Ken moved up grabbing the younger man by the arm. “Perhaps childish outbursts were acceptable in Pittsburgh but in New York we expect adults to behave as adults. I didn’t tell you to blow Jagger. I suggested that you consider it. He’s very powerful. Other artists, the list is long, have made that sacrifice.” “Well I’ve already sacrificed enough to get here.” Justin cryptically offered, pulling his arm free. “Fine, don’t blow him. He’ll pan you, but hopefully after tonight we might have the exposure to overcome him.” Ken surmised making his uncertainty evident. Justin couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He’d thought Ken was his agent not pimp. “You blow him.” Justin suggested. “You can include it under your “full service” clause.” “What?” Ken’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He liked Justin but wasn’t use to a new artist being quite so outspoken and disrespectful. After all there was a reason Ken De Lezio was one of the most sought after art agents in the business. “It’s your job to take care of me. You blow him. That’s what I’m paying you for, right? To look after me, make the right decisions, the right moves?” Justin held his gaze then threw up his hands. “I’m going home.” He announced. “And it isn’t part of a childish outburst, it’s merely an artist who has had his fill of inane bullshit for one night.” Justin grabbed his coat from the shapely brunette girl by the door then stepped onto the sidewalk. It had all been too much. The leers, the stupid comments about his work, the admirers who had no concept of what he was communicating, the women fawning, the incipit name dropping. And through it all Justin found his mind constantly on two flutes lying smashed in bottom of a trash can in his kitchen. He found himself gazing toward the door hoping beyond hope that Brian would walk through it, surprising him. It was ridiculous. Justin shook the thought away feeling silly for ever having thought it possible. He closed his eyes trying to remember what it felt like to know that Brian was near, that he was within reach, but the sensation was slowly fading away. It filled the blond with sorrow as he raised his hand to hail a cab. Each day Brian grew more distant, time creeping by, each second seeming to rip more of his life away, like sinew from bone, leaving him bare and exposed. Justin forced another deep breath of cold air to clear his head as he watched a cab move past him. He felt the buzz of his cell as he spotted a second cab on the horizon. Pulling out his phone he read the display then furrowed his brow. “Michael?” He asked his voice filled with concern. It was late why would Michael be calling unless something terrible had happened. “Do you have any fucking clue how fucked up he is?” Michael spat angrily, missing Justin’s apparent concern. “What?” Justin continued placing a hand over his other ear hoping to make out the other man’s words. “You just couldn’t settle for less could you? You just had to get him where you wanted him then make it perfectly clear to him that it still wasn’t enough!” Michael shouted. Justin felt his temper flare as the events of the evening fully came to a head within him. “Fuck you Michael!” He spat. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.” “I just left him at Babylon.” Michael shot. “Babylon?” Justin asked in confusion. “Yeah, he’s rebuilding it. You’d know that if you ever talk to him!” Michael accused. “I called him Michael. I emailed him. He’s the one that can’t be bothered with me!” Justin shot. Michael paused trying to reconcile this new bit of information. “When was the last time you called him?” He questioned. “Six weeks ago.” Justin shot not wanting to admit that it was more like eight. “I got a little sick of leaving message after message that was never returned. That’s why I stopped emailing him or calling. What’s the point? You have to have some sort of response in order to have a conversation.” Justin threw his hand back up; the cold increasing his urgency to grab a ride and get home. “Well what did you expect? You left.” Michael rationalized. “He let go Michael.” Justin declared. “My leaving was a mutual decision. Not to mention the fact that it was never supposed to be forever.” Justin felt a hand on his arm and turned to meet his mother’s gaze. The night collapsed around him at that moment as she pulled him into her arms handing his phone to Tucker. Justin tried to hold it together even as tears filled his eyes. He wanted Brian, he wanted more than an unemotional note attached to something expensive. He wanted a sarcastic remark about Ken De Lezio and a protective warning thrown at Jagger. He wanted to believe as he had when he’d walked through the door of the loft that when he returned everything would be as it had been. “Michael.” Tucker’s voice surprised the other man. “I think it would be best for you to refrain from making unfounded accusations without first learning the facts. After all tonight was a huge night for Justin, where was Brian?” Michael found he had no response. Before he could come up with anything he heard the sound of the line disconnecting. He glanced up the alley at what would soon be the new Babylon trying to make sense of the situation. It was California all over again. Michael huffed a sigh remembering the conversation he and Brian had shared in front of the motorcycle shop window. Brian had been convinced that Justin would never return. Michael had never believed it but since the project had been canned he realized that they would never really know what would have happened to Justin if opportunity had continued to knock out west. Michael opened his car door and slide behind the steering wheel. He had to get home to his husband. He knew if he explained it all to Ben that the man would have insights that would help form the best strategy for helping Brian cope with his loss. As he put the car into gear he noted the picture of his daughter taped to the dash. Michael missed her more each day, the ache never really faded. He wondered for a moment if that was how Brian felt about Gus. Surely it was, but it was also compounded by the added burden of Justin’s absence as well. As he moved toward his home Michael wondered how his friend was managing to function at all. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Justin pulled away from his mother and took a few steps up the street regaining his composure. After a moment he returned, his façade in place. “Thanks.” He reached for his phone which Tucker immediately surrendered. “No problem.” He smiled wishing he could somehow be closer friends with the younger man for Jennifer’s sake. A cab pulled up and Justin stepped away indicating that they should take it. “No honey. I think we should all go back to your place for a little while.” Jennifer offered. “Mom, I want to be alone.” Justin confided, his eyes so much like the child she’d rocked to sleep years ago. He watched as his mother prepared to argue the point as her protectiveness took over. It was then that Tucker stepped in. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Tucker offered as he maneuvered Jennifer away from Justin and into the cab. Justin offered Tucker a grateful smile then lifted his hand just as another cab pulled to the curb. Justin paid the driver then unlocked the entrance to his building. The light was on in his window, so he was certain George was home. He slowly headed up the stairs to his floor wishing he had the funds to have his own place. He sidestepped Mr. Kaverik’s trash realizing he’d be the one to take it out tomorrow morning. The older man had more and more trouble with the stairs. Justin paused outside his door, an episode of Conan blaring from inside. He wondered if he was about to walk in on George and Rueben making out on the couch again. That would be the perfect ending to a perfect day. “Well how did it go?” George reached for the remote turning down the volume at the sound of the door opening. “Holy shit, that bad huh?” He noted Justin’s face and immediately turned off the set picking up his bowl of Ben and Jerry’s as he turned to face the blond. “No, it was fine.” Justin dismissed his concern. He liked George. He seemed like a nice enough guy. They just didn’t really share anything in common besides a bathroom and their sexual orientation. “Yeah, okay. “ George clearly wasn’t buying it. “And the smashed Vera Wang flutes?” He inquired leaning further back into the couch his eyes tracking the blond as he made his way to his room. “Yeah.” Justin hesitated as he glanced back toward the kitchen. “I didn’t want them.” He shrugged. George knew why. He’d examined both the remains of the flutes as well as the card. “Well I did.” George smiled. “They were beautiful, I think.” Justin nodded. “I just didn’t want them.” He sighed. “It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I should have given them to you or my mom.” He sighed again and leaned against his bedroom door. “So those were from Brian?” George asked licking the chunky monkey from his spoon. “He’s B?” Justin nodded. “Wow, nicest thing my boyfriend ever gave me was a tattoo.” George took another bite. Justin smirked. “Well I’m not really into things.” Justin offered. “I thought you said you were a fag?” George deadpanned. “Rule Number 4. Fags love things, the more things the better.” Justin laughed in spite of his night. “Want some ice cream?” George offered. Justin nodded. “I’m going to change.” He moved to his bedroom. “Well then I’ll get your fucking ice cream for you princess.” George spat sarcastically laughing as he crossed the room. “But don’t think this will ever happen again. I’m not your wait staff; besides something tells me you starving artist types don’t tip for shit.” Justin moved into his bedroom and removed his shirt and then his pants. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long moment his mind playing over Michael’s words. Brian was rebuilding Babylon. Why hadn’t he shared that with Justin? Why had he changed his mind, the property had been for sale when Justin had left for New York? Justin knew that the only person with the answers would be Brian, but for the life of him Justin couldn’t bring himself to make the call. “Hey Monet your BJ’s melting.” George knocked on the door. Justin grabbed his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and moved into the living room. He picked up the bowl and took a bite. Moaning he smiled over at his roommate. “Good huh?” “It must have a million calories in it to be this good.” Justin offered taking another bite. “Yeah it does but some pains only ice cream can heal you know?” George offered as he ate from the carton. Justin hadn’t realized how red George’s eyes were until that moment. He furrowed his brow keeping his eyes on his roommate. “So what happened?” Justin asked grateful to focus on someone else’s life. “Rueben.” George explained. Justin nodded. He’d heard enough screaming fights over the phone to know how tumultuous George’s relationship was with Rueben. “You guys will work it out. You always do.” Justin took another bite letting the cool cream distract him from the tension still brewing beneath his skin. “Yeah.” George admitted. “He’s just pissed. He wants to move up and the restaurant is getting busier but the owner let another guy move ahead of him, so Reuben is still on lunches.” “Must be frustrating.” Justin offered. “Yeah, not everyone hits the city with a comet up his ass.” George gave Justin a meaningful look. “A comet up my ass? So that’s been my problem?” Justin replied casually. “And FYI, that’s all I’ve had up my ass.” “And whose decision was that?” George countered. “Touche.” Justin took another bite. “Of course I could have gotten laid tonight.” “Oh really?” George looked up always interested in any scoop. “Anyone famous? You know lots of famous people do to those artsy openings.” “Colin Jagger.” Justin wrinkled his nose in disgust. “My agent actually suggested that I fuck him for my career’s sake.” George burst out laughing at that. Justin paused not quite sure if he was going to be hurt or outraged. “I’ve seen him before. He was in some magazine at the dentist’s office. He sounded utterly pretentious.” George replied, “And quite the bottom.” Justin laughed as well nodding. “Exactly. He was acting all ‘I’m going to fuck you’ and I was thinking ‘aren’t we missing a top?’” Both men laughed until George almost fell off of the sofa. “No kidding. It would be like building with Legos but none of the top bits fit into the bottoms.” They burst out again, a combination of bad humor and exhaustion. “Not that your bottom has had anything in it lately.” George raised a brow. “I’ve been a bit busy.” Justin excused. “Yes, having a comet up one’s ass will keep a person on their toes.” George accepted. “But I seriously doubt that it’s success that’s kept your sheets cold.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Justin announced. “You’ve been in how many magazines in the last three months?” George offered not giving up. “I don’t know.” Justin buried himself in another bite distancing himself from the topic. “For someone who “is setting a new standard in American impressionism”. “George quoted. “You seem very disinterested.” Justin set his bowl down, the contents half eaten. “I’m going to bed.” He announced. “You know you’re an arrogant prick sometimes.” George challenged. “Really?” Justin raised one brow wearily wondering if George was teasing or serious. “Yeah, you have all this fucking success and you’re thumbing your nose at it just because some asshole is finished with you. Well I say fuck him and go on with your life. Show him what a huge fucking mistake he’s made by being the most successful fucker in town.” George offered. Justin smirked considering George’s words. “Yeah, and that fucking asshole would no doubt tell me to take your advice, but I was never very good at displacement.” Justin admitted. “Displacement?” George smirked. “Big word, more than just a pretty face are we?” Justin huffed a small laugh. “ Now whose the arrogant prick?” He glared. “Touche.” George smiled innocently. “And you don’t do displacement?” “Yeah, I want what I want and I’m not willing to settle for something else as a shitty substitute.” Justin’s confidence caused the other man’s smile to broaden. “Only the best for you eh?” George asked then pressed. “And this Brian is the best?” Justin nodded confidently. “He’s the best for me.” Justin offered sincerely. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?” George asked. It was the one question that Justin had refused to ask in the last two weeks but knew that it would lay heavy on his mind all through the long sleepless night. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> A long whistle caused Brian to turn toward the entrance. Ted stood admiring the row of designer bar stools. Each was electric blue and beautiful, sleek and stylish, the perfect reflection of the club’s new look and also of its owner. “Let me guess.” He considered. “Expensive?” Ted laughed causing Brian to smile, a rare sight since Justin had left. “Alphaville.” Brian offered. “I considered them a bargain.” He moved his hand over the contoured edges demonstrating the gas piston adjustment. “They are very nice.” Ted conceded. “I spoke with the sound company and they are planning to install next week. That leaves the opening a month away. We really should consider the invitations and the guest list.” Ted placed his clipboard on the bar looking over at his boss. “It should be a fundraiser.” Brian offered. Ted was surprised but hid it well. He merely nodded. “For the survivors of the bombing and the families of the victims.” “That’s a great idea Brian, but do you really want the opening to be linked to the bombing? Isn’t it our job to try to erase that particular image from your patrons’ memories?” Ted carefully ventured. He certainly didn’t want to think of that night ever again. “No.” Brian shook his head. “This isn’t about forgetting. This is about going on with life in spite of hate. It’s not about pretending that it never happened. It’s about rising from the ashes. It’s about a huge fuck you to anyone who has a problem with us. One bomb isn’t going to stop this community.” Brian asserted. “You sound like a politician.” Ted smirked. “I sound like Justin.” Brian admitted shocking the other man. “The indomitable spirit of queers.” Ted couldn’t remember the last time the blond’s name had come up in one of their conversations. “How is Justin?” He asked putting his pen down to give Brian his undivided attention. “How would I know?” Brian replied absently. “Well there are cell phones, emails, planes, trains, cars….” Ted listed. “He’s busy.” Brian excused. “He doesn’t need me.” “Need you?” Ted laughed. “He loves you.” Ted’s emphatic honesty struck Brian. “We’ll see each other again. It’s only time.” He repeated his fateful words from the night Justin had left. “Only time.” Ted repeated. “Lost time.” He offered thinking of Blake and the years in between their first meeting to their current relationship. So much had happened and though some was good, even the bad would have been easier to endure had they been together. “I’ll work on the list for the opening.” Brian interrupted the other man’s thoughts. “Was there anything else?” Brian asked making it clear that their discussion was over. “No. Just need the guest list and a date.” Ted glanced at his checklist. “We’ll have the date in a week.” Brian speculated. “In the meantime, look into how the proceeds can be set up into a trust fund for the victims and their families.” Ted nodded. “I’m on it.” Ted assured him. “Nice stools.” He offered an olive branch before turning to leave. Brian watched him go. He let his eyes move around the room taking in the transformation that had occurred over the last three months. He could still vividly remember stumbling through the dark and smoky remains calling out for Justin, praying for an answer. He took a steadying breath, his nose suddenly filled with the acidic smell of burning wires. He glanced toward the back of the club and saw sparks, then to his relief a blond head. Just like that his prayers were answered. Brian came back to himself realizing that he could stare into that far corner of the club forever and Justin was never going to reappear. Brian took a deep breath refusing to reminiscence. No sense thinking about the past with so much to do that is if he wanted to be ready for the opening. He could see now that the club would be ready in no more than four weeks. It was exciting but at the same time frightening. Brian still wasn’t sure why he’d started the renovation on the Babylon. He tried to convince himself that it was merely a wise business decision, but he knew it was more than that. He was searching for something familiar. He was looking to immerse himself into a project that would keep him busy and distract his mind from the constant feeling of loss. He knew unlike California, that this stint in New York had no time limit and as such Justin was gone. Brian slowly walked toward his office checking the lighting and security specs. There were so many details in revamping a night club. In the last three months he had a million decisions to make, suggestions from contractors and demands from inspectors. It had been a welcome relief to throw himself into something constructive, but all of that was quickly winding down to completion. Then what? What would he do then to fill the hours of emptiness? Oh sure there would always be his friends at the bar, the willing tricks in the backroom, and his driven work ethic but none of that sparked within the same feelings of excitement that the mere thought of two familiar blues eyes managed. He slumped down behind his desk glancing up at the picture of Gus on his desk. It was a new photo taken in Toronto with the CN tower behind him. He had already grown and changed so much. Brian knew he was missing it. Hadn’t it only been yesterday that he, Michael and Justin had raced to the hospital? He picked up the frame and stared lovingly into the face of his son wondering where the time had gone.